Amare est mori
by xXBlueRuinXx
Summary: My first shot at some good ol' phan phic. Modern day. one shot kinda thing. if you like sad and depressing and sorta weird, then this is right up your alley.


Detective Robert Firmin hated being called out to a scene at four o' clock in the morning on his vacation almost as much as he hated being a detective. In the beginning he loved his job. He wanted nothing more than to be the one to fit all the pieces of the puzzle together. Unfortunately, the more he delved into cases, the more repulsed he became. There seemed to be no end to the horrors of which he had to reduce to diminutive facts. Facts that told nothing of the hate and malice behind the crime. Facts that were silent as to the amount of blood that splatters on a wall after a gun shot. Facts that did not speak of the heart-broken families left behind. The more Firmin worked, the more he hated working.  
As soon as he arrived an officer by the name of Giles Andrew bombarded him.  
"Hey, Bob. How ya' doin'?" Firmin could not take his eyes off of Andrew's unseemly unibrow.  
"Peachy, Drew. How are you?" He starred blatantly at the patch of fur as Andrew went through the customary explanation of how he was. "So what's the story?" Firmin finally asked.  
"Well, it all looks pretty simple. Another teen gone an'' slit his wrists. Probably trying to find a way to escape stress at school, stress at home,... iono."  
"Girl troubles," Firmin said indifferently with a smirk.  
"Highly doubt that, but it's your job to find that out, now isn't it?"

Andrew led Firmin into the boy's room, passing an old man that was being questioned while smoking his corncob pipe in the hall that was being questioned. When they arrived, Firmin was approached by another officer. Joe Buquet was his name, and Firmin could see the youthfulness in his eyes. He vaguely remembered the eagerness that he now saw in this man''s face. Buquet told him that the boy, Erik Lovelace, was seventeen years old and raised by his grandfather who was also named Erik Lovelace.  
"Do you have a picture of him?"  
"The grandfather never had any made," answered Buquet.  
"What? Why?"  
"Did you...did you not see him?"  
"No, that's why I''m asking for a picture," Firmin snapped.  
"Oh," Buquet said with his head down. "Maybe you should come take a look..."

Firmin followed the officer over to the ambulance where the body had already been placed. They climbed in and leaned over the black bag. "Are you ready?" asked Buquet. "Of course I'm ready! What you waitin' for?" Buquet had already had his hands at his eyes in anticipation, but Firmin, unaware of what he was about to see, did nothing to prepare himself. When Buquet finally opened up the bag, Firmin nearly fell out of the vehicle in shock. "Good God!" Firmin shouted. Buquet proceeded to zip the bag back up, all the while averting his eyes. Buquet went on to explain that Erik''s parents had left him with his grandfather when he was born because they were too embarrassed to raise a child with that "condition". That "condition" left a face that looked like clay in the hand''s of an angry God. An inhuman impulse within in Firmin urged him to look again. He felt nauseous at his own insensitivity towards the poor boy.

He started his way back into the house to the boy's room. He was stopped by the man with the corncob pipe.  
"See 'im did ya'?"  
"Excuse me!"  
"The boy. My boy. Did ya' get a look at 'im?"  
So this is him, Firmin thought. "Yeah, I saw him."  
"Quite a sight, ain't 'e?"  
Firmin was shocked at his lack of reverence or grief. "Yes, I suppose you could say that."  
"Damn right I can say that. I raised him, I can say whatever I want. I didn''t never wanna take 'im in, I'll tell you that right n––..."  
"Is there something I can help you with, sir?" Firmin nearly shouted over the old man.  
"Yeah you can help me. You can help me get all these cops outta my house!"  
"Sir, we'll be out as soon as we can. Just try to stay out of our way and let us do our job."

Before he had time to respond, Firmin was already continuing on towards the boy's room. He now had a clue as to why Erik would want to kill himself; he just wondered, why now? It was obvious that whatever abuse that drove him to take his own life had existed throughout said life. So what pushed him to do it now? What drove him to finally go through with it? Probably just couldn?t take it anymore, he thought. He looked about the room and found a letter, a suicide note, that had already been sealed in a zip lock bag and labeled.

When love with unconfined wing  
Hovers within my gates,  
And my divine Christine brings  
To whisper at the grates;  
When I lie tangle in her hair  
And fetter'd to her eye,  
The gods that wanton in the air  
Know no such liberty.

Stone walls do not a prison make,  
Nor iron bars a cage;  
Minds innocent and quiet take  
That for a hermitage;  
If I have freedom in my love,  
And in my soul am free,  
Angels alone, that soar above,  
Enjoy such liberty.

Amare est mori sine timore mortis. Mori est scire videbo tuum iterum.

The letter wasn't signed, but it was obvious who it was from. He recognized the poem that was taught in some distant English class long ago, but he had no idea what the last little inscription might mean, let alone what language it was in. Firmin continued looking about when he came to a bible on the boy's night stand. Out of curiosity, he picked it up and as he was thumbing through it discovered that it was hollowed out. Inside of it was a beautiful bracelet with a heart formed out of black hematite on a chain of what he assumed was rhinestones. The clasp was broken, but that didn't take away any of its attraction. Why would he have a bracelet, a hidden bracelet? Was it really his? He sought out Mr. Lovelace to answer his questions.  
"That thing there? Gi' me that!" He snatched the bracelet out of Firmin's hands.  
"Where d'you git this?"  
"I found it in Erik's room."  
"That li'l bastard. That li'l son-of-a-bitch! He must have gone in the trash after I threw it out..."  
"So you know about it then?"  
"Know about it? Of course I know about it! Damn boy was wearing it around the house like a li'l queer. When I saw ''im with it, I snatched it off his wrist and told him, if I ever saw him wearing of that shit again, I was gonna do to him what his momma should of done when he was born."  
Ignoring these gruesome remarks, Firmin asked,"Do you mind if I take it?"  
"Go ahead! Lord knows I don't want it!"

Firmin felt like he could have taken out his pistol and shot the old man right there. How could a man talk of his own blood like that? He couldn't leave it at this. He felt that he owed it to Erik to find out what exactly had gone on. Erik deserved it, whatever "it" was. He decided to go to Buquet to get anymore facts that might help him out. To his surprise, he found out that Erik went to the high school just a few minutes away. He walked every morning to Grand View High. It was now after seven, and school would probably be starting shortly. Well, he thought, it's as good a place as any to start.

He went to the administrative office to pick up Erik's class schedule. As he walked the halls, he imagined that he was Erik. He imagined himself doing his best to avoid eye contact, to stay out of the way, and to try to somehow shield his face. He stopped at Mrs. Giry's room, Erik's English teacher. He introduced himself, said why he was there, and asked if she would answer some questions. Somehow she managed to answer while crying but without losing control of her voice.  
"You know Erik was only here for about two months."  
"Really."  
"Yes. And, as I'm sure you could probably guess, he was often teased to say the least. He was very introverted and only talked to a small handful of people, most of them teachers."  
"Uh huh"  
"I tried my best to help him to open up. He was very talented you see. A most gifted writer. My best student" She proceed to show Firmin a piece of his she had recently graded. It was a poem entitled "To My Savior." He skimmed over it and agreed that it was quite good, though quite depressing.  
"Did he have any friends at all?"  
"Well, I know that my daughter, Megan, would always go out of her away to say a few kind words to him...and there was Christine Daae, but other than that I don't think I saw him talk to...to anyone."  
"Did someone say something about Christine?" interrupted a strapping young man.  
"No err...yes, Raoul, but we weren''t...we were discussing..." sputtered Mrs. Giry. "Do you know where she is today?"  
"She's making up a test in Mr. Leroux's class. Why?"  
"Erik Lovelace died."  
"Wow."  
"Did you know him?" asked Firmin.  
"Yeah, everyone knew him. How did he die?"  
"Erik committed suicide."  
"Wow."  
"How do you know Christine?"  
"She's my girlfriend."  
"Oh."

More students began to file into the room. Mrs. Giry allowed the detective to sit in for the class. He sat in Erik's old desk which was in a far corner of the room. On the desk he noted that carved with what seemed to be a pen was the name "Christine." At the end of class, he began to file back out with the others when he was approached by a pretty young blond.  
"Excuse me."  
"May I help you?"  
"I heard you talking to Raoul about Erik."  
"Yes."  
She was silent for a moment. "Is he really dead?"  
Such a silly question. "Yes, I'm afraid he is. How did you know him?"  
"Oh. I'm Meg Giry. I was...um...friends with him. Close friends."  
"Really? Ah, you must be Mrs. Giry's daughter then. I see."  
"Yeah. I can''t believe he would do that..."  
He starred at her. Comforting was never his forte so focused on getting more answers.  
"Do you know Christine Daae?"  
"Sure! She''s my best friend." "Really? And what was her relationship with Erik?"  
"Oh, they were very close. Closer than me and Erik were. They hung out a lot until her mother made her stop."  
"Why would her mother tell her to do that?"  
"I'm not entirely sure. I think she just didn't want Christine hanging out with someone like that. I think she might have been afraid of Erik, actually."  
He mulled over this. People can be so ignorant sometimes. He pulled the bracelet out of his pocket. "Does this mean anything to you?"  
"Oh my God! Where did you find it?"  
"So it's yours then?"  
"No. It was Christine's. Erik gave it to her, but her mother forced her to give it back. It's broken?"  
"Yes. Erik's grandfather appears to have broken it."  
He could see the tears welling up in her eyes. "It's still so beautiful..." She could not control her voice as well as her mother. "He had a huge crush on Christine. He loved her to death."  
"I suppose her boyfriend probably didn't like that to much."  
"Boyfriend? What boyfriend? Christine didn''t have a boyfriend."  
"What? What about Raoul?"  
"Raoul? Raoul Chagny! He told you he was Christine''s boyfriend?"  
"Yes. Did she not tell you that they were going out?"  
"They weren't! She hates him!"  
"Really?"  
"He was always trying to hook up with Christine. For a while I think she was going to finally give in and let him take her out until Erik came. Raoul treated him like shit. Oops. Sorry."  
"I'll be strong," Firmin said with a smirk. "I don't think I'll die." He winced as he heard himself say this and prayed she wouldn't notice it.  
"Well, anyways, Raoul treated him like really, really bad. But Christine, she felt bad for him because of him...because of him being the way he is, so she spent a lot of time with him and they really began to like bond. Christine, she...I think she loved him. I really think she did..."  
"Raoul?"  
"No! Erik. I really think she began to fall in love with Erik. She felt bad for him because of him...because of him being the way he is, so she spent a lot of time with him and they really began to like bond. And that made Raoul fuck with him even more. Then he began harassing Christine. He wouldn't leave her alone. It was one big mess. It's just not right, you know. To make fun of someone like that. It's not like they can help it." She resumed her crying. "Damn him! Damn that fucking Raoul!"  
He handed the bracelet to her. "Here. Why don't you take this. Tell Christine she should hide it where her mom can't find it or something."  
"Thank you."  
"Are you gonna be okay?"  
"Yeah. Thanks."  
"Your welcome."

He went back to the office to get the schedules of both Christine Daae and Raoul Chagny. All three of them had every class together except for the last period when Raoul had government and Erik and Christine had study hall. It would have been very easy for Chagny to harass Christine like Giry had said. Firmin opted to pull Chagny out of lunch to question him, taking pleasure in yanking the boy out of his only break time during the day.  
"What's this about, detective?"  
"Erik."  
"Well, what do you want to know?"  
"Did you like it? Did you love it?"  
"I don't know what you're talking about."  
"Oh yes you do!" Firmin pushed the boy up against the wall and exerted all his body weight onto him. "You know what you did to him! Don't lie to me boy! I''ll send you to jail! Do you want to go to jail? And not that kiddy jail shit either. Do you want to go to jail with the real criminals?" He almost laughed at the poor boy shaking at these empty threats.  
"Holy shit! Okay, okay! Just get off of me!" Firmin backed away a couple steps.  
"Yes, I picked on Erik, if that's what it is you're fucking screaming about."  
"What's that? I can''t quite hear you boy! Speak up!"  
"I picked on him! There! Ya happy?"  
"Yes. Now go on."  
"Well, I mean...look at him. I couldn't help it. I mean, especially when he started moving in on Christine. Turning her against me and shit."  
"Ah, yes. Christine, your girlfriend only not. Yes."  
"Okay, so she's not my girlfriend, but I had to tell him something so he would leave her alone! I'd rather see her dead than with him!"  
"You told him she was your girlfriend!"  
"Yes! Yes I told him! What are you going to do about it? Nothing! So I lied. Lying isn't a crime and you know it!"  
He knew it. It was all coming together now: Erik's motive.  
"He killed himself because of you!"  
"And!" shouted Chagny. Before Firmin could respond, the bell rang, and he lost Chagny in the crowd.

He heard over the intercom that they were going to be having an assembly in sixth period for Spirit Week. He decided to go out and get some food. He hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday, but in all of the excitement he hadn't noticed his hunger pains. When he came back, inside the auditorium he spotted Meg Giry sitting silently with a beautiful girl with wildly curly brunette hair who was listening intently to the speaker. He assumed that this was the famed Christine.  
"Hello, Ms. Giry."  
"Hello, detective." She hesitated. "This is Christine."  
"Hello, sir," she said with a bright smile.  
"May I talk to you, Ms. Daae?"  
"Sure."  
He led her out of the auditorium. ""What is this about, detective?"  
"Ms. Daae, I need to–– "  
"Christine. Call me Christine."  
"Christine, I need to talk to you about Erik."  
"What about him?"  
"Well, I was wondering about your––"  
"What's wrong? Is something wrong with Erik?"  
Oh God, he thought. He had assumed that she would have been told by now. Apparently no one found the right time to break it to her. No one until now. "Christine, I have some bad news...about Erik." He looked into her brown eyes starring back at him as they prayed that whatever they were about to hear wasn't true. He was surprised to find himself overcome with emotion, and his he felt his throat begin to tighten as if to prevent him from speaking. "Christine, Erik killed himself sometime last night..."  
"What? What!"  
"Erik...he..."  
"No!" She fled back into the auditorium to her friend. He wanted to go after her, but he thought it best that she be alone. He watched her speak to Meg all the while violently flailing her arms about. She held her head in her hands and sobbed just as the rest of the student body rose and cheered along with whatever cheerleader was shouting some mindless chant. He still had some unanswered questions, but they could wait. He could drop by her house later tonight, then he would be able to wrap the case up and clear his mind

He drove around, picked up his dry-cleaning, and eventually remembered to make it home to let the dog out. He wasn't sure why, but this case hd gotten to him. Really gotten to him. That hadn't happened to Firmin in years, and it wasn't a pleasant thing to have back. He knew that he shouldn't let it affect him like this, but he couldn't help it. He had been kicking himself about it all day. He pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind and got back in his car.

When he arrived at the Daae residence, there was a rather familiar scene set before him. The home was teeming with police...and an ambulance. He saw Giles Andrew practically run out of the house only to vomit in the garden. He went over to his friend and patted him on the back. Between heaves, Andrew managed to get out, "She drank it, Bob. She drank the whole thing." Without regards to proper manners, he walked on inside and saw what he assumed was Christine's parents sitting on the cough crying. He saw that a bathroom at the end of the hall seemed to be the center of the activity so he made his way there.

He stepped in. Firmin didn't hold back now; he let the tears flow. He found Christine lying dead on the tiled floor. The radio she must have turned on was still playing Harry Nilsson's "Without You" over and over. On the floor next to her was an empty bottle of hair dye. He fell to his knees next to her. Through his veil of tears he saw that written above the sink on the mirror in lipstick was, "Amare est mori sine timore mortis. Mori est scire videbo tuum iterum."

* * *

Note o' me: The poem is infact Robert Lovelace's "To Althea From Prison" had to put that in there so copy right bastards wont shoot me. okay. you can go now. 

oh, and, because i know you were wondering, the LATIN means,"To love is to die without fear of death. To die is to know that I will see you again."

also, sorry that there are no identions. my computer sucks


End file.
